Harry was a beautiful child full of love, full of life. His parents were proud of their accomplishment, producing such a fine specimen of a Godlike creature. His childhood was the perfect picture of a well rounded human. He interacted well with all, Teachers and classmates alike. all that changed when a Demonic Uncle molested him at an early age. The child had smooth features and great bone structures, plaguing for a boy. I guess that is what attracted his uncle’s advances. From that unfortunate encounter, Harry’s soul was enshrined in a catatonic cloud. The traumatic experience encountered at nine years old, destroyed my friend’s life. The sequence of events of self destruction, began at age eleven. With years of repressed guilt, bestowed on him by his Uncle. With feelings of worthlessness and complete lack of self esteem, on the bleakest day of his life, he threw himself off the Market St Bridge. Life has been ungiven to Harry, in ten feet of water he found the only rock within fifty feet. Everyone wrote him off including the Doctors. Six weeks later he made a monkey out of everyone. One day he sat up in bed and ask for water, you would think that he had enough water, while knocked out by the rock. It is absolutely ironic how parents can be oblivious to changes in a child’s life. Preceding the suicide attempt there were cries for help that went unnoticed. There were behavioral changes that went undetected by unobserving parents. If the rock did not rearrange his brain structure, his nemesis continue to plague his life with sociopathical behavior. He stood five feet ten tall, carried a frame of one hundred and sixty pounds, all mussels and bones. In High School the signs of a lost soul was evident, School work suffered from the propensity of getting stoned ,drinking and fighting, that got him arrested and prison time. I also was molested by a Teacher. Two class mates of mine who were also molested by their brother also my molester. Invited me to their home for dinner, not knowing that I was the lamb I accepted. Unlike Harry I was well developed at fourteen, and possessed great fighting skills. I punched Teachie as he was called so hard in the eye it almost exploded. At that point he released his grip covering his damaged eye. My encounter happened close to a Police Precinct, I passed the precinct did not go in and report it leaving others at risk. Harry’s downslide continued with cocaine abuse and stealing to support it. One day he flipped taking his girlfriend and young son hostage, today his soul rots in a mental institution all for a moments pleasure.
It doesn’t make any difference who you are, Black or White Apple or Orange, you can grow bad seeds. The key is to recognize bad traits as early as possible and pay attention. Nurture and bend the tree before it grows into a thorny obnoxious plant. One day I picked up six seeds from a Palm tree, I planted them all in the same dirt to germinate. Five of them left outside in the harsh element, I place the last one in my enclosed Porch, in a rainforest environment. That one flourished and grew steadily, the others died. With the proper environment and atmosphere any seed will flourish into a beautiful plant. With a little more shelter this Palm will be ready for the harsh outdoor of life. Environment and exposure is the key to proper development. You can germinate and grow a bad seed through no doing of your own. You need to know who your kids friends are. In High School my mother despised my best friend and did not hide it. It did not matter to me John was my man, we hung in school after school and on the week end. It’s an absolute tragedy how at that age kids think they knows everything, and that their parent’s opinions doesn’t matter.
After High School he almost got me inducted in The Black Panther Party, his father died and left him thirty thousand dollars, which he parlayed into a successful drug business that he tried to get me to operate for him. His High School sweetheart who despised smoking weed he converted her. Years later they married and had three kids, all showing signs of Crack Babies. It’s like Mother was looking through a Crystal Ball. The rotten son I am never gave her the glory. I survived John but his wife and kids did not. The earlier a parent takes interest in their children’s friends, and intercedes the most success can be attained shaping their environment and exposure. You need to know who your kids friends are, invite them over for a day, watch their demeanor, if they are maladjusted rambunctious and out of control. You need to get your child away from that bad seed, it will only contaminate your precious child who will emulate and become maladjusted also. Another approach is you are already nurturing one seed , why not adopt another as a mentoring Gardner. Devote some time, burrow into the child’s mind find out why he is projecting in this manner. Once you have an idea of what is going on inside their mind, consult with a behavioral specialist and get help. This is the job of his parents, but don’t forget we are our brothers keeper. My wife had eight sons though she only birthed two, the other six adopted her even though they had mothers of their own. They were best friends with our two sons, growing up through the turbulent years of adolescence in N.Y.C. In a time and place where souls could be lost through association . All eight children grew up straight and strong. All became professional men, because among them there were no maladjustment to contaminate the rest. How lucky were they that they were all of the same mindset, and connected with each other, in their time of need for support. The boys called her mom when they greeted her. They told her secrets about their lives about their likes and dislikes about their girlfriends, their school work, the peer pressure encountered going to public schools . Alcohol sex and drugs were the big pressures. They also discussed things going on in their immediate family that they did not discussed with their own parents, that’s trust and confidence, key components in a relationship. Bottom line they requested her friendship, and she accepted the job of mentoring gardener.
When kids personality changes it’s for a reason, something they encountered and are not telling. My Mother’s love and prayers brought me back, from horrific encounters early in life. She told me that I was born the most loving and trustful child in the world. All that changed when she was in the Hospital and left me in the care of relatives. I was seven or eight years old, I went to the refrigerator took a glass of milk, my older cousin who was in college observed. He called me a thief, began whipping me like a Jockey on his way to the finish line. During that period when Ma was not in the Hospital she was home too sick to work, we just about starved. There was no charity from the family or the Church. If not from something I picked up from my Grandfather, living off the land we would have starved. At six years old my brother five years older and his friends, took me out on a Canoe in the ocean. No less than a hundred and fifty yards in deep water, dumped me out of the boat. Their goal was to teach me how to swim the hard way. Unbeknown to them they almost committed murder. On that day I learned how to swim in Ochoa Rios Bay a channel that accommodated large Ships. Living in Buck’s Field Ochoa Rios, it was there that my religious faith was shaken, by the way the Church and Family treated us with obscurity while we starved. I started stealing from the Church’s collection box in the Rectory’s office, I moved on to the neighborhoods grocery cash registers. I learned to be a good sneak thief, offering my services to do some odd job like sweeping the floor. At nine or ten I was a clever thief, using pretense to gain access. Once they walked away I would only take small change not enough to be noticed and be detected. One day I hit the wrong store , brother Scott was a big burly Shoemaker , he caught me red handed. If he was caught beating a Horse the way he beat me he would have been arrested. The density of the rope he beat me with could have tied down the Titanic. He whipped me into unconsciousness. Once recovered laying on the floor there was a huge ice pic type tool used to make holes in leather, I picked it up shielded it in a close palm behind my back stealthily sneaked up on him, premeditatedly planned to stab him in the kidneys, God interceded, a customer walked in the store. Hard to conceive a ten year old murderer who was born the most trusting loving child? very feasible I was well developed from swimming every day. He threw me a half Dollar and chased me, I guess the charity was for me to keep my mouth shut about the abuse. With two severe beatings before age eleven I became impervious to pain. I became a fierce fighter willing to take on adults who wanted to leave their marks on me. Also there were three older boys in the neighborhood whose only ambition in life was to kick my brother and I butt on a daily basis. The fights we had with them for the duration of time we lived there would have made Chuck Norris proud. Always three against two the fights we had were like Booth camp training for later years. This environment was detrimental to my young soul. I was on a runaway train to hell Three times I tried to kill my brother five years older, and once a friend. If this was not time for intervention then when. After the episode with Brother Scott, I became good at not being detected. I graduated to the neighborhood Drug Dealer’s hiding place in the woods where he hid his cash. This time it was detected although he did not know that it was me, he would have been relentless to send a message to future rip off artists. My deviousness was undetectable even to Ma, all the time bringing money home in small increments telling her that I did odd jobs for people, which was the truth at times. I was very industrious early in life. I was her little man a provider, until she found about the brother Scott incident. She threatened him for the severe beating, and put me on a tight leach, to deter me from my robbing the hood activities. Needles for me to tell you that Mother and could no longer show our faces in the Church. I was a thief and she was the mother of the thief. Not only was I putting my soul in a pit, but I was dragging hers with mine. that woman was a Saint not once did she abused me for embarrassing her. Instead she annihilated with guilt by offering prayers for my soul, instead of more beatings . For that she got my respect for life. Mother’s health improved, she got a job offering in Kingston. we were now upward mobile. Except for one thing Mother was now aware of the little demon called me. Moving someone that had my propensity to a place like Kingston a bad mans town where street gangs battled with cops daily, a place where murder was the theme for years. She had no choice there were no jobs in Ochoa Rios.
When I was seventeen I taught I knew it all. I worked full time while going to H.S. I dressed better than all my Teachers. Those who did not know me taught I sold drugs, always had money and on the go. I once called on a girl I was sweet on. I was met at the door by her older sister, twenty five years old with two children and on welfare. She invited me in and told me to have a seat. Jenny would be back in a few minutes she informed me. She offered me a beer which I accepted knowing she was corrupting a minor, that wasn’t the extent of her corruption. I was in a relaxed state, she pounced on me like a octopus, putting the move on her sisters caller. Her two children played on the living room floor where we were. When the small talk was over, she told the kids to leave the room, and go to theirs. The boy played deaf, it was at this point she decided to punish him. Both kids eight and seven were active in martial arts. Like a ring master at a dog fight arena, she ordered the girl to punish the boy for not listening to her. For some reason girls are better students than boys. They squared off like the real thing, I taught that this was going to be no more than an exhibition of their skills for my entertainment. Was I ever wrong, the girl was fast and furious, with precise execution by the martial arts brown belt student which she was. With a quick flurry kicks to the head followed by precise combination to the body. At this point I was traumatized by such sponsored violence by a mother on her young son, and the teaching of brutality to her daughter. The boy began crying, this was the real thing, and this was not the first time. As the boy cried she told him to shut up and fight or she would take over the punishing. The poor child manned up and began tagging his sister with his best. He was no match for her, The girl was fierce if I was in his shoes I would have grabbed something to fend her off. I am quite sure that if he did it would have infuriated this evil woman. The more the boy cried she taunted him that she was going to take over the brutalization. The boy faught for dear life but he was no match for his sister who enjoyed her work. Even at seventeen my spirit was driven by empathy, I got up and walked out. hoping that in absence of my presence the beating would stop. I felt guilty leaving the boy in such a perilous position . Worst of all not notifying the cops, I only have my conscience my soul and my god to deal with for not reporting it to the social agency, but I was young and dumb,at seventeen.
Lord I am asking for redemption for my spiritual adopted family. I have given them names of people you know, and attached my own. Abe- lea is one of your youngest angels, taken away from us through violence. bestowed on her by her brother Kane I. She was only thirteen weeks old. left alone in a car in a place where the seasonal weather temperature is ninety degrees. Left with her brother Kane I six years old, whom have shown tendencies of misalignment in the past. Left unprotected and un supervised by their unfit mother Jezebel- a, the. The ultimate tragedy occurred, when Kane- I unleashed a fierce beating on the thirteen weeks old baby girl, extinguishing the light of her pristine young soul. Free of sins free of hate a perfect specimen of your creation. that’s why I am designating my little Angel to be Abe-lea , protector and guardian of infant’s souls. This tragedy shines a blinding light on the need for early detection and intervention. It also magnifies the necessities of good parenting. Not every woman who gives birth possesses the quality of a good mother. A great mother stands alone in a crowd. My mother was such never separating the spiritual umbilical cord at birth, linking her soul to mine for life. She knew when I hurt, weather in the room around the corner or around the world. Parents can be the best and the worst influence on kids. A bad family surroundings stays with a young mind forever. The Walton’s family circle is ideal for development, parents having a disagreement should discuss it in a civilized manner, preferably away from the kids. When there is constant fighting among parents, kids go out of their way to be inquisitive. They eavesdrop, they hang on to every words, every tone , every emotion. Those encounters are imbedded in their brains. One day I was in a friend’s basement helping do some work what I overheard , coming from a four year old and a six year old, overwhelmed me with shame. those babies were cursing at each other, like two vulgar adults on a corner in hells kitchen. I alerted my friend I told him what I overheard , he denied it saying not his kids. I pried the door wider so he could hear for himself. He was blown away as I was. wandering where they got this vulgar behavior from. I immediately from where, he and his wife have in the past embarrassed me into leaving their home, because of fierce arguments among themselves. So why is it impossible for the kids to be upstairs in their bedrooms with the door opened, learning how to be verbally abusive to each other. Taking their parent’s baggage with them through the rest of their lives, and beyond to the next generation. Bottom line one set of bad parents, is all it takes to create generations of maladjusted people. Seven years later the girl now eleven slammed the truck’s door on his fingers. I told him she did it on purpose for the years of abuse to her mother, verbal, mental and physical, he denied. Years later they divorced. M y observation, it is better to have a broken home than a dysfunctional one.
The experts tells me it is not a good idea to blog about yourself, regardless I am going to swim against the tide. My goal is to expose my life to the world, in an attempt to have some impact on a young life.If you are travelling the straight and narrow, all I can do for you is to encourage you to stay the course. If you are deviating, wavering or you have lost your way, take a look at my life and my past. I believe that if you have lived long enough to grow old, and you have nothing to offer in the way of learning and teaching. Then you have only existed, and the time spent was meaningless and unfulfilling.
Story told I was two years old in the care of a babysitter who neglected her job. There was a party at my home, the sitter left me alone in my room and joined the party. A trait that I have possessed most of my life, being in the wrong place doing the wrong things, got me in trouble on this fateful night. I slipped out of my room undetected, worked the living room floor like a thirsty hobo drinking from every
unattended glass in in the room. Staggered back to my room, crawled under the bed where they found me in a convulsion seizure. Guilt ridden and panic stricken my mother threw me over her shoulder and tried to run seven miles to the hospital in an effort to save my life. A good Samaritan drove by and got me to the hospital in time. I drank enough alcohol to put a horse in a coma. The Doctors pumped my stomach and saved my life. A year later I must have had an insatiable thirst, I drank the turpentine the painter used to clean his paint brushes. Deja vu running me to the hospital to get my stomach pumped, once again dodging the bullet. You would think by now my mother would have a cow bell around my neck. at four another paint situation this time ether the same ingredient to process coke that kills its users with cancer, no wonder I never had the taste for the stuff. After all these runs to the E.R. its a wonder I have any intestine left. You would think that I would be brain dead by now. Maybe so because at six mother was cooking and I had to know what was in the pot pulling the scalding water over fifty percent of my body. The third degree scars have totally disappeared over the years one more thing to give God thanks for.
You would think that after such a harried past that I would learn to stay away from trouble. Not so at ten I was caught stealing change from a church brother’s cash register he beat me with a rope that could tie down the Titanic almost in a state of unconsciousness , where was his Christian charity dealing with a maligned child. I must have been deaf dumb and blind not seeing the light travelling to the beat of the drum to destruction, and too dumb to change course. At eleven years old hopping a ride from a horse drawn carriage I fell under the four foot wheel, I managed to lift the wheel with the force of an angel in time to prevent crushing my pelvis and intestine. People who witnessed the near death disaster ran to my house and told my mother that I was dead. When I entered the yard the poor woman fainted, rose and gave me a well deserved whipping. Short time later still working on an early grave, playing at the crest of a hundred and fifty yard cliff, slipped and fell rolled all the way to the bottom, beaten up by every tree and rock on the way down. Got up and walked away with scratches and a bruised pride. Walked home in a tattered state to another well deserved beating, never occurred to ma that she could not beat the Devil out of me ,only God could. By now I had stop counting
how many lives this cat had. One sunny day I saw a garbage truck travelling at a slow enough pace for me to chase and hop a ride. The mean spirited driver saw me, took a wide turn and abruptly hit the breaks. I rolled on the black top like a bowling ball, those scars remained. At fourteen I got molested by a teacher who tried to rape me. what he did not know was that he was dealing with an up and coming street fighter from hell. I nailed him in the eye with a Bruce Lee rabbit punch partially closed fist almost rupturing the eye. With a feeling of satisfaction I put down serrated steak knife that could have gotten me twenty five to life. Right after that incident with Teachie, the name he was called by his brothers who brought me to the wolf and themselves also molested at will. A young thug a year or more older than I was an up and coming little bad man herd of my fighting skills and wanted to test me. the boy was skilled at the art of street fighting he beat me senseless. I recoiled and retreated , found a stick and brutalized him. Only to find out that his two older brothers were gun men gunning for me . They met their death execution style by rival gun men. It was at this point in my life that I decided that I did not want to be a bad man, and that I had lived a dove long enough in such short years, and that I wanted to see fifteen.
To many women, being a mother to your precious children is the most rewarding of all human relationships. Mothers experience profound feelings of love for their children even before they are born. There is nothing in a mother’s life more important than the life of her beloved children. Immediately, upon knowing that your baby is growing within your body, your thoughts are focused entirely on the health and well-being of your little one. For nine months, as your babies grow you are already preparing your life to nurture and protect your treasures. These little angels are gifts from God and there is nothing more important than your children.
So, no matter what happens in your life or whatever other gifts you are given the best gifts from God are your children…and they are gifts! Oh…and when you finally meet your little ones you are so completely in awe of what beauty God has given you. Yes, you have sleepless nights, and you no longer have the freedom to come and go as you please but these children are worth all of your time, attention, devotion and sacrifice.
The most important thing that mothers want their children to know is that she loves them forever, no matter what happens or what they do whether right or wrong. Mothers guide and teach their children in the way that they should go. A mother’s love is unconditional and not wavering. A loving mother does not judge her children the way the world does. She only sees their beauty, gifts and talents. She looks at her children only in love and gently guides them and leads them.
Mothers also learn a lot from their children. Some children are just so special and awesome that they possess special supernatural gifts from God whether they are aware of them or not. These children grow and respond to the people around them in love whether family or strangers. These very tender hearted, merciful children help their mothers to understand their children’s spirits and souls…and their mother’s hearts take permanent pictures and movies which remain in her heart forever.
Mothers forgive at all times and they don’t remember the wrong things that their children might have done in the past. She always looks at them and not at their wrongdoing. In conclusion: The Word of God uses a mother’s love as an example of His great love for us.
Mother’s love is countless and meaningful. Her virtuous of kindness is hardly repaid by any precious things in this world. Her deep parental kindness in bringing us up and the hardships she has gone through will never be repaid as they are priceless. In other words, her love for her child is endless! Moms are ever important in those first few months and years! Mothers love is a kind of natural feeling…
I’ve lived on this earth for 22 years and I’ve weathered many personal storms. I’ve lived the glamorous life and there were times when the ends just weren’t there. I’ve stood at death’s door and miraculously walked through it. I’ve loved and been loved in return by some of the most brilliant men that God ever created, I lost my father from my life. Throughout it all – I had God standing by, gently guiding me and encouraging me to get up and face the day.
I meet people and they tell me. “Samninder, you are so strong.” I’m really not that strong. I’m a descendant of many strong women before me. If I’m strong – I received it by default. It’s in my DNA. I am fortunate – no – I am blessed to have been raised by a woman who never showed fear. She never backed down from anything or anyone .She gave me identity, pride, and the ability to survive in a world. Growing up, there were times when we bumped heads.
There is no greater love than the love of a Mother. I am so far from my mother, she is in India and I am in Canada.I miss her a lot in every single moment. There are times, even now, when I don’t feel well and I pick up the phone and call my Mother. As soon as I hear her voice I revert to a child, “Mummy, I don’t feel good.” And in her loving fashion, she makes everything alright for me with her love. She has been the stronghold of my life and in some strange way I just always expect her to be here.
She did everything from my childhood to present day, she is my life, she care me a lot because I am her only child, I always see God in my mother, I look in the mirror every morning and all I can see is her. I am her daughter!
“I’ll always love my Mother – You only get one”
It is not always easy to become the perfect mother though we keep trying all the time. Obviously, every great mom takes care of her children, takes care of their children’s basic emotional and physical requirements. However, today, we live in such a society where motherhood is a great challenge to women. The women in our society want to be a good mother and a role model to their children.
Though motherhood is a very hard and stressful thing, almost all women desire to experience it in their life and they would go to any extent to keep their children happy. Every woman wants her child to be the perfect one, someone who is adept at all fields of life. Women are ready to do everything they can possibly do to be the best mother to their baby. They wait and anticipate numerous months and days for the arrival of the baby and finally when the day arrives, women forget their own existence. They possess the child and try real hard to make the kid the apple of their eye.
Modern mothers are no different from their older generation. Even today, mothers sit sleepless nights for their babies. They think that their sons or daughters deserve the best. They think how to give their children shiny boots, quality toys and cute hats so that they look admirable. Children become mother’s priority and to keep their children happy, the mothers work very hard, sometimes even at night. Modern moms can cook and clean as a part of their household work even after working at the office for eight hours each day. Even if they are exhausted they do not feel any problem to sleep on a sofa to give their children a good bed for sleeping.
The typical Indian and Indian-Canadian mothers portray the image of a perfect mother. They are doting and loving stay-at-home mothers who are a good cook as well as a good housekeeper. The responsibilities for children are placed entirely on their shoulders which they carry out in a commendable manner. On the other hand, they are accused when something goes wrong with the children. Therefore, they take many responsibilities to be a perfect mother but are often treated as a not so perfect mother.
You will come across so many Indian and Indian-Canadian mothers who are considered as the perfect symbol of sacrifice and devotion. They spend huge amount of time and energy towards their children but when their babies under-perform at schools and misbehave, it is criticized that it must be their mother’s fault. Such mothers bear every criticism inflicted upon them by the society without saying a single word.
Most moms contribute and sacrifice a lot of things to raise a child which is no secret throughout the world. Father’s around the world have accepted that a mother’s contribution in a child’s life is tremendous. However, the problem lies when most Indian and Indian-Canadian mothers want to be the best mother in the entire world. They have different ideas about what being perfect is. These mothers understand their child uniquely and they think that they know their children better that anybody else.
You can make out such mothers in your daily life by watching them bestow affection on their children at malls, schools, outside restaurants and even on roads. Such mothers stick to their children and think about doing nice thoughtful things all the time. Perfect mothers are polite to their children and they want their children to know how much they love them regardless of their personal issues.
The typical Indian mother knows how to handle the difficult challenges of motherhood. They are patient with their children and would go to any length to take interest in their children’s life. They put in their best efforts to fulfill most of the demands of their children and they always try very hard to understand their children and be good listeners to them. You can even find such mothers apologizing to their children whenever they unintentionally commit any silly mistake that hurts their babies. It is obvious from these moments that such mothers love their kids more than their own lives.
However, being a perfect mother can backfire as most women tend to realize later in their life. If you try to engage too much in your child’s life then your child starts depending on you for every little decision in their life. The Indian and Indian-Canadian women consider that being a perfect mother is essential for the child’s optimum growth. However, in reality, a child can do very well with a lesser amount of love. Today, Indian and Indian-Canadian mothers spend most of their life raising their children ignoring their own desire and career. Their highest ambition in life is to establish their children. So, they miss out on various opportunities in their daily life and that can definitely not be a good thing to do.
As life goes, one cannot predict the future. Most mothers who try real hard to make their children good soon realize that their children have treaded the wrong path or they have reacted aggressively due to the excessive affection showered on them. Therefore, if you give unnecessary affection to your kids and try to become a perfect mother, it may actually damage your child and turn him away from you. Whenever a child lacks mannerisms or commits any mistake, the blame is mostly put on the mothers so inadvertently you are the one who would be ultimately blamed for any misconduct of your child.
Besides, many women have high ambitions regarding their career and they want to excel in life. However, after their marriage when they conceive a baby, their only aim in life is to make their baby happy and get their children established in life. Such women forget about their own life and career which is really not required to raise a child. Balancing your child’s life along with yours is not a hard task to do. You can devote lesser time to your children and stop being a perfect mother to make both your child and yourself happy. Start spending some time for yourself and do what you like to do best. You will still be a good mother and it wouldn’t lessen your affection towards your children.
To become a perfect mother, mothers often get rid of all sorts of entertainment in their lives and they unnecessarily put their children before themselves each time. However, there are many negative effects of being a perfect mother. Many mothers spoil their kids’ life by trying to become a flawless mother as it becomes impossible for the children to live up to the image of their mother. Mothers should keep in mind that babies are like clay, they are shaped the way their mothers mend them. Children look at the actions of their mother and see through empty words very quickly. Thus is it advisable that women should try to restrain themselves to being a good mother instead of trying to become the perfect mother.
A good mother is more important and effective than a perfect mother. A good mother ignores the conception that motherhood requires hard work. They pledge to leave their children alone and they read out fantastic stories and poems to their children without forgetting their own dreams and aspirations. They show their creative skills to their loving kids and they never pamper their children’s life with too much affection. Whether you are a father or a mother, you should always try to be naturally good to your children and not go beyond your comfort level to keep your children happy. Start being a good mother today and watch your children soar.
What do working mothers worry about the most? It’s the kids of course. Whatever the setting, the question I get asked the most is “Will the kids be alright?” It’s made me realize that we tend to look at the glass half-empty rather than half-filled when it comes to blending work and family. We forget about all the benefits that we bring to our children when we work – and I’m not talking about the obvious financial benefits, although these of course shouldn’t be taken for granted.
About a year ago I remember getting a call from the school just as I was pulling up to the house after having driven 20 minutes to the school and 20 minutes back. “Mrs Brown-Quinn, your son asked us to call. He forgot his sports clothes. Can you come back to the school and drop them off? ” I was exasperated! I had already spent 40 minutes in aggressive weekday morning traffic. I replied, “Sorry, I’m working at the moment. I’m afraid my son needs to learn to be organized.” Ouch. Yes, that was tough to do, but I resented that my son thought my sole purpose in life was to be at his every beck and call.
So today, about a year later, the school called me again. This time my son got on the phone. “Mom, I’m really sorry but I forgot my sports clothes. Do you think you could possibly drop them off for me?” His voice was genuinely sweet and unassuming. I decided to say yes. I had some flexibility in my schedule and more importantly, my son had the right attitude – he wasn’t assuming anything. When I arrived at the school and took the bag to the main office, the school secretary explained that my son had been very reluctant to call me. He told her that I don’t do that sort of thing – if he forgets something, I won’t come back to the school to drop it off.
Being a good parent requires delivering tough love sometimes. Kids need to learn to be independent. It can be a cruel and competitive world out there. Pursuing interests, including business, outside of your kids, can give you that extra perspective you need not overwhelm your kids with attention (dare I say spoil?). This benefit of working isn’t always immediately evident.
It wasn’t until our daughter went away to college that she realized why we (a dual career couple) had raised her in the way that we did. “Mom, I can’t believe how so many of my friends struggle to manage things on their own. They are constantly calling their parents for help.” You’ll love that moment! After all those years of complaining about why you don’t do this or why you don’t give them that, your kids have a “light bulb moment” and they realize that tough love has made them better people. Like many working mothers, I don’t have time to smother our kids, but this has turned out to be one of life’s blessings.